


No Hurt, Just Comforter

by Bunnywest



Series: Keep Calm and Read Steter [9]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crack, Don't say I didn't warn you, Getting Together, M/M, Mentions of Masturbation, Not beta read., barely alpha read, cursed bedlinen, i'm not even joking, this has zero plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24530446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnywest/pseuds/Bunnywest
Summary: Stiles hesitated. “You promise not to laugh?”“I promise no such thing. Now, where did you get your dick stuck?”“Nowhere! Why would you even ask that?” Stiles asked, offended.“Because it’s you, Stiles. Now are you going to tell me what happened or not?”Stiles bit his lip. “So, I think my new comforter is cursed.”
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Keep Calm and Read Steter [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1679953
Comments: 49
Kudos: 1030





	No Hurt, Just Comforter

**Author's Note:**

> This came about from a conversation where Discontented Winter, Twisted_Mind and I were talking about hurt/comfort, and that lead to comforters, which led to cursed bedlinen, and my brain's a weird place, okay?  
> Pure crack.  
> (Also i wrote it on the fly, keep your expectations low)

Stiles tapped his free hand against the keys of his phone, quietly thankful that he’d left it within reach when he started doing, well, what he’d been doing. “Come oooon, pickup pickup pickup,” he muttered.

Peter’s voice was rough with sleep. “Stiles?”

“Yeah, um. I need help.”

Peter instantly sounded more awake. “Where are you? What’s wrong? What time is it?”

“At home, three in the morning, and I...um...”

Stiles heard the rustle of blankets, and then, “Hang on.” The call took on an echoey quality that he knew meant he’d been put on speaker, and there was more rustling. “Tell me what happened while I get dressed.”

Stiles hesitated. “You promise not to laugh?”

“I promise no such thing. Now, where did you get your dick stuck?”

“Nowhere! Why would you even ask that?” Stiles asked, offended.

“Because it’s you, Stiles. Now are you going to tell me what happened or not?”

Stiles bit his lip. “So, I think my new comforter is cursed.”

“Did you try calling Derek?”

“Why would I call Derek?”

“Derek’s the alpha.” Peter sounded almost put out at having to admit it.

“Did _Derek_ raise himself from the dead? No, this is definitely Peter levels of weird.”

“I’m not sure if I’m flattered or insulted that you’ve thought about me enough to give me my own level of weird.”

Stiles sighed. “Whatever, dude. This fucking blanket has me trapped and it won’t let go.”

There was a beat of silence, then, “Wait there. I’ll be right over,” and the click of the call disconnecting.

" _Wait there._ Like I have any fucking choice," Stile grumbled as he glared at his new comforter where it had pulled tight, trapping his hand around his dick, a tiny detail that he’d failed to mention to Peter, because he didn’t want to admit that Peter was right, dammit. Stiles _had_ gotten his dick trapped somewhere. He muttered, ”Yeah, now you’re gonna get it,” and prodded sharply at the blanket. He could swear the comforter tightened its grip in retaliation. “Don’t even. I’ve sent for help.”

And then he lay there waiting, trapped by his new comforter which was apparently cursed, as evidenced by the fact that it had clamped down around him while he was in the middle of jerking off to thoughts of Peter fucking Hale.

* * *

Peter slid the sash of his bedroom window open and dropped into the room silently. For a moment he just stood and stared, before demanding, “Tell me.” It was obvious he was stifling a laugh, the bastard.

“So, you know my Dad works a lot of nights, right? And I’m here alone, and I can’t always count on you or Derek creeping outside my window to protect me, and there was this website, and it looked legit –“

Peter held up a hand. “Long story short, Stiles.”

“I ordered a quilt with protective spells and it locked down on me when I started rubbing one out and now I can't move,” Stiles said in a rush, cheeks flaming.

Peter’s eyebrows raised, and he approached the bed carefully, tugging at one corner of the offending item. He managed to move it about half an inch before it snapped back into place. “Interesting. And it’s meant to protect, you say?”

Stiles nodded miserably. “And now I’m stuck like this.” He gestured at the obvious outline of his hand trapped against his crotch. At least he wasn’t hard anymore, so he guessed that was something.

Peter circled the bed slowly before coming to rest on the edge of it. “And where did you get this?” He prodded the comforter.

“From the internet. Selene’s Safety Spells,” he mumbled, squirming uncomfortably at the admission, because he knew what Peter was going to say next.

“I see. And do you remember a conversation we had, oh, a week or so ago where you asked about getting magical items online and I specifically told you it was a bad idea?”

“Shut up and do something,” Stiles grumbled, knowing Peter wouldn’t, not right away. No, he’d make this as uncomfortable as he could, because he was an asshole like that.

Peter sighed. “Such ingratitude, considering I came over in the middle of the night. For all you know I’ve left a pretty young lover behind to come running to your aid.”

“Did you?” Stiles huffed, and that was _not_ jealousy he felt, it wasn't.

“No, but I might have.” Peter was caressing the folds of the comforter now, tracing round the shape of his legs. Stiles wasn’t sure if it was research or lechery and frankly, he was afraid to ask.

“Please,” he deflected, “If you left a lover for this, then neither of you was having a good time.”

Peter clasped a hand to his chest. “I’m offended, Stiles. I’m excellent in bed. Want me to show you sometime?” His other hand crept to the hem of the comforter, and the blanket responded by snapping a corner at him.

“Ha!” Peter sounded triumphant and seized the corner. “I thought so!”

“What? What is it?” Stiles demanded.

Peter ignored him, addressing the comforter in stern tones. “Listen, you. Either you let go now, or you won’t like what happens next.” He flicked out a claw. Nothing happened for a few seconds, and then Peter said, "Fine, You've brought this on yourself," before he reached out and delicately sliced through a single stitch, then a second one. The comforter trembled for a moment and then collapsed in a heap, releasing Stiles from its hold, and Stiles scrambled out from under it and bolted for the bathroom, where he splashed his face with cold water and waited for his embarrassment to fade to less than fatal levels.

He hadn’t missed the way Peter’s gaze had followed his naked ass as he left the bedroom, and he wasn’t sure if he was creeped out or flattered. Both, if he was honest. He stayed in the bathroom taking deep breaths for long enough that any longer would just have been pathetic, and then told himself firmly to get over it. So what if Peter knew he jerked off? So what if Peter had seen his naked ass? Big deal.

He walked cautiously back into his room, uncertain what would be waiting for him. He certainly didn’t expect to find Peter with his shoes off, lying on his bed with the offending bedlinen tucked firmly under his arm, stroking it and chanting quietly in what was quite possibly…Latin?

As he watched, the comforter thrashed about before shuddering and drooping. Peter looked up. “Ah. Done. Whoever spelled that thing was a hack. It should just be an ordinary comforter now.”

“Do I even wanna know?” Stiles asked, mainly to distract himself from how very tempting Peter looked in his bed. Just like Stiles had imagined he would, on far too many nights. He looked like he belonged there. 

Peter must have picked up on it, because he patted the side of the bed. “See something you like?”

Stiles cleared his throat. “Don’t you have a young lover to go and seduce somewhere?”

“I don’t as it happens, but I’m accepting applications.” Peter patted the bed again and Stiles stepped forward cautiously, before remembering that wait, it was _his_ bed. He slotted into place next to Peter with a huff.

Stiles poked at the now-dead comforter. “So what, you just put an ad out? Wanted, hot young body to entertain a not-dead-werewolf, fun times for all?”

“Of course not. That would be crass.” Peter's voice was close to his ear, and fingers ran across the back of Stiles’s neck, making him shudder. “I prefer to wait and see if there’s anyone who shows an interest. Someone who, say, has thought about me enough that they know exactly what level of weird I am, someone who might perhaps call me over in the middle of the night when they’re all alone…”

“That was a cry for help, not a booty call!”

Peter nodded knowingly. “Right, of course. You have no interest in me at all.” He edged closer and slipped an arm around Stiles’s waist. “I know what you were doing when your blanket got jealous, Stiles. And I can guess who you were thinking of. Unless the scent of lust that rolls off you every time we’re close is mere coincidence?”

Stiles’s brain stuttered to a halt, backed up. “Wait - did you say it was _jealous?”_

“Mhmm. Whoever spelled it confused an anti- possession spell with a possessiveness spell. The comforter was protecting its territory because it could tell you were thinking of someone else.” He put one hand under Stiles’s chin and turned his head so they were facing, and Stiles let him. “As I say, there’s a pretty young thing- shaped gap in my bed right now, if you were interested?”

Stiles met Peter’s gaze. “I don’t do one night stands.”

Peter smirked. “Neither do I. One night with me would never be enough.” He leaned in the slightest bit, and his lips were right there, all delicious and tempting and did Stiles mention _right there?_

He licked his lips. This was probably a bad idea.

But then again, he thought as he leaned into the kiss, that had never stopped him before.


End file.
